


Speed of Your Tongue

by dragonlandsandyaoihands



Series: Mad Blood Stirring [11]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, Horse Racing, Horses, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 19:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17230217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonlandsandyaoihands/pseuds/dragonlandsandyaoihands
Summary: Lance has been working as a horse groomer for years when a semi-famous jockey who had been banned a few years back for misconduct comes to work for Lance's stable. He'd never expected to see Keith Kogane astride a horse again, much less racing competitively. Maybe they'll be able to overcome their differences when united against Altea Stables' arch rival, Galra...





	Speed of Your Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> The whole quote is “I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue.”, from Much Ado About Nothing. And this is my first fic without an explicit rating, so I’m really curious to know what everyone thinks! Please leave a comment and tell me :)   
> It's included in the series MBS because it is about heats...as in races...
> 
> If you're interested in reading more of my writing early access or drabbles that aren't posted on AO3 at all, come check me out at:  
> dragonlandsandyaoihands.tumblr.com for more information in my bio.

Lance leaned casually on the fence, watching intently as Hunk carefully coaxed Golden Leona away from her dam and to accept a lead. Yellow Canary was about as mellow as a mare could get, so she didn’t mind her filly being trained. Golden Leona, on the other hand, was surprisingly skittish and hadn’t taken completely to the simple training Lance and Hunk had been working with her on. She eyed Hunk warily as he looped the rope around her neck and led her in around the corral. She was already a yearling and should have been more advanced, but Allura was patient and gave Lance and Hunk some leeway with the filly. Yellow Canary came over to nuzzle against Lance’s palm, snorting gently and lipping at his pocket until he fished out a sugar cube for her, crooning softly. 

“Who’s a beautiful mama, huh? Who’s a lovely golden girl, hm?”

Yellow Canary was a palomino mare and one of their best racehorses. She’d taken a season off for the pregnancy, but she was back in action, her long legs giving her a good advantage for hurdles. Hunk drew Lance’s eyes back, clucking at Golden Leona to speed up to a swift trot. The filly seemed hesitant, but eventually gave in, Hunk jogging in place to encourage her. Lance smiled at his friend’s enthusiasm. Hunk had been the one to suggest being a horse trainer in the first place and Lance followed in his footsteps, unsure about his career. They’d been extremely lucky to find an employer like Allura, someone who not only took a chance on them but also allowed them some freedom with their training regimes. In fact, Lance remembered, Allura was supposed to be visiting that day, along with a new jockey she’d just taken on. Lance wasn’t one to pay attention to the details, but figured it was someone Pidge or Matt, their main jockeys, scouted out. Lance rubbed his hands together in the brisk breeze of the morning and sneezed when a clod of packed earth of the corral hit his nostrils. The entire place was always so dusty! His own mama would have a heart attack at the state of Lance’s jeans when he got home in the evenings. 

Hunk had just switched Golden Leona over to a smooth canter when a couple of cars pulled around the bend in the road, kicking up a fair amount of dust themselves. Lance sneezed again and Golden Leona whinnied, rearing back a little and stamping. Yellow Canary snorted twice and walked over to her foal, head-butting her gently. Hunk sighed and went over as well to comfort the twitchy filly and to tighten the lead, just in case she tried to bolt. Lance watched the arrival with interest, waiting to see who would emerge. He recognized Allura’s hybrid, but the other was a beat up red two-door and the front fender looked like it’d a run in with something. It crumpled in from one side. Lance wondered why the jockey hadn’t bothered to have it fixed, but shrugged it off. Hunk leaned over from where he’d brought both horses up to the fence of the corral. If Lance was interested, Hunk’s curiosity was insatiable. 

“This is the guy right? The one Allura just brought on? I overheard Rolo talking about him at one of Pidge’s races, a couple of weeks ago. Apparently, he’s been practicing in the same stables as him. Rolo was strangely complimentary, said something like how ‘the kid can flat out ride.’ But, he’s kind of new I think, to racing now. Which is weird, right? Since he was the one you read about a few years ago…”

Lance whipped his head around and stared Hunk in the face.

“Huh? I wasn’t paying attention. Wait, who is this guy?”

Hunk leveled Lance with an unsympathetic look. Lance rolled his eyes, not willing to endure Hunk’s playful reproach. Before Hunk could say anything else, though, the car doors opened. Out stepped Allura, her shining silver hair done up smartly in a bun, her riding clothes spotless in the way that only someone who focused more on fashion than on actually riding could be. Out of the other car, two people stepped out, one a big, muscular man with small fluff of white hair that Lance recognized as Shiro, Pidge and Matt’s private coach, and a short man with long, midnight black hair, shielding his eyes from the sun. Lance blinked and then his jaw dropped. 

“Oh my God! Keith Kogane! That’s him! Jesus shit! How is he even here? He got banned from racing after that stunt he pulled with that other rider!”

Hunk chuckled at Lance’s star-struck reaction, fondly remembering the way Lance had closely followed Keith’s budding career before the fight. Other people might have worried about the way that Lance obsessed over strangers just because he thought their picture in a magazine was handsome or sexy, but Hunk knew what a romantic Lance was and how much he lived in a fantasy world. He also remembered how devastated Lance was when Keith was banned from racing and how much irrational anger Lance carried over it. Hunk had been a little worried when Allura had casually mentioned that Shiro managed to get the ban overturned, friends in high places, Hunk supposed, and that Altea would be personally sponsoring Keith’s return to the racing world. He’d pretended relaxation when discussing the topic with Lance, hoping that he’d get the hint and not make working with Keith super weird. It was honestly too much to hope for, but Hunk was nothing if not optimistic. He cautiously filled Lance in while Allura spoke to the other men, gesturing around the stables.

“I guess Shiro was able to pull some strings. Allura probably called in some favors too, since Shiro convinced her to sponsor Keith… Look, try not to be too mad at him, okay?”

“I was mad that he threw away his potential. But, I guess if he’s back in racing now… he’s not that old or anything, he’s only 24… but he might be out of practice. I know what Rolo said, but has Keith been keeping up with practice? He looks like he’s still in shape, so that’s good, at least. Boy’s got an ass that just won’t quit. It’s still been two years and five months since he was banned, though…”

Hunk sighed heavily. Just as he opened his mouth to plead with Lance not to reveal exactly how much he knew about (or drooled over), a man he’d never met, Pidge and Matt’s run down jeep rolled up and they bounced out excitedly. Matt practically tackled Shiro into a hug, wringing a hearty laugh from the larger man. Allura grinned and turned, noticing Hunk and Lance. She waved to them and started moving the group over to where they stood, once Pidge pried Matt from Shiro’s shoulders. Privately, Lance thought that Shiro could have easily carried the slight, bespectacled man with ease, but he was too busy watching Keith like a hawk to muse more on the matter. His eyes tracked him rapidly, taking in all the changes since the last picture he’d seen, taken directly after the fight. Admittedly, it hadn’t been a good picture; Keith’s lip was bleeding and curled in a grimace and the whole right side of his face was red and swelling, the beginnings of a black eye clearly visible even from where the photographer stood. Shiro had bodily tried to block the picture, so Keith’s head and one hand were all the viewer was capable of seeing, but Lance had studied that photo often enough that he had it memorized. Besides the obvious lack of injuries, Keith looked more or less the same. His hair was a bit longer and his shoulders seemed broader though that might have been the fault of his jacket. Lance fervently wished it wasn’t such a cool day, (for California at least), so that he could properly investigate Keith’s muscle definition. For professional reasons. 

Lance hurriedly let go of the fence and twisted around, reclining back against the wood, trying to give off the aura of casually cool. He’d learned early on that the best body language was to seem open, stretching out one leg behind him to rest on the lower part of the fence. Hunk smothered a groan at Lance immediately adopting the same pose he always did at bars when he was trying to pull and prayed, under his breath, that Lance get himself under control and behave like a normal human being for once in his goddamn life, please, just once. The group came to a halt in front of them, everyone smiling except for Keith. Hunk couldn’t tell if Keith was just uncomfortable with introductions or if the car trip had been long and he needed a bathroom. 

“Right! Well, now that everyone is present, we can begin introductions and the tour. Obviously, you already have met Matt, he rides timber races, and his younger sister Pidge, who mainly focuses on hurdle races.”

Pidge snorted.

“Yeah, we’ve met.”

“These are our horse trainers, Hunk Garret and Lance McClain. I believe they know our horses better than anyone else, so they can tell you a bit about each one.”

Hunk glanced at Lance, who continued to stare expressionlessly at Keith. Hunk tried to put out his hand, but Keith’s arms were firmly crossed over his chest and he made no move to take his hand so Hunk awkwardly turned it into a small wave. He cleared his throat, again checking to see if Lance would jump in, but Lance remained silent. Hunk spun around to show off the horses, not sure what had gotten into his normally chatty friend and dreading the inevitable explosion of words when they finally came. 

“Well, um, so that’s the humans of Altea you'll mostly be interacting with, but this is Yellow Canary! She’s another horse that Matt and Pidge ride in the hurdle races, and she can’t get enough sugar cubes so watch out for that. And here’s her filly, Golden Leona, a yearling. She’s a little shy, so if you want to befriend her step lightly. I mainly work with these two, but they’re making great progress! We’re trying to get her more used to people, other than us, obviously.”

Keith gave the horses a cursory once over and nodded slowly.

“They… look good. Well taken care of.”

“Of course they are.”

Everyone looked over to Lance, who’d finally spoken. Keith raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Hunk’s amazing at what he does.”

Keith looked around at the others, back at Lance, then at Hunk, who shrugged apologetically, not sure what Lance was getting at either.

“… Yeah. I’m sure he is?”

“I just want to make sure you know. That everyone here is a professional.”

Pidge’s eyes narrowed and Allura frowned. Hunk felt like stamping on Lance’s foot would have been a _tad_ too obvious a gesture, but the impulse remained. Really? Bringing up Keith’s fight in their first interaction? While draping himself over the fence in a purposeful way and shifting so that his jacket pulled tightly across his arms? Hunk didn’t know whether Lance wanted to fuck the guy or start a fight and, frankly, he’d bet Lance didn’t know either. Keith, on the other hand, seemed baffled at the attitude and warning tone.

“Okay?”

They maintained eye contact, neither moving nor speaking, until Pidge cleared her throat loudly. Hunk felt a bead of nervous sweat slide down the back of his neck and wrung his hands together, not sure what kind of first impression Lance wanted to make. 

“Lance, you gonna show him the rest of the horses or what? It’s _cold_ out here, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Yeah, I am. Wanted to set things straight, that’s all. Anyway, let’s head in.”

“I’ll stay out here with these gals, see if I can get this filly up to a gallop.”

Hunk’s light tone made Allura smile. Lance led them back towards the barn and down the row of stalls, pausing before each of the four horses to give them an introduction, complete with flourishes and grand gestures. Keith may have been perplexed by Lance’s attitude, (and mentally labeled him ‘Asshole’), but Lance’s knowledge and care for the horses clearly set Keith’s mind at ease, relaxing the frown on his face. Shiro watched Keith physically shrug off the strange encounter with Lance, peering intently between each horse and Lance as he gave their backgrounds.

“First up is Green Ace! Pidge mostly uses him for hurdle racing because he’s amazing at maintaining his stride when jumping. Got his name for the way he loves to roll in the grass and, having a white coat and all, getting weird grass stains all over his withers. Next to him is primarily Matt’s horse, Rebel Blue. He’s _super_ friendly so watch your pockets around him.”

Keith leaned forward and Rebel Blue’s nose nudged his palm, huffing a warm snort against his gloves. Keith smiled slightly and patted the nose gently. 

“Over here is the newest addition to our awesome stables. Red Kini! She and Golden Leona actually share the same sire, who you’ll meet in a second. Red Kini was born in Hawaii and the Kini part means lion in Hawaiian, which is actually really fun to say five times fast. But the original buyer decided not to keep her so Allura bought her and now she’s with us! She’s certainly pretty, but now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Drumroll please!”

Lance gave himself a small drumroll, trying to bring the enthusiasm back down to ‘normal’ levels. He couldn’t help it! He loved the horses so much! But the last one, Black Leo, was Lance’s opportunity to shine. Sure, no matter what he told Hunk he was still peeved that Keith had thrown away an amazing career and he wanted to make it clear that Allura did him a huge favor in giving him a second chance. He was pretty sure Keith had gotten the message outside: be professional and don’t deck anyone. Once inside though, his old Keith Kogane fanboy bubbled up again and he thrust his chest forward, proud of the animals he slaved over every day. His crowning achievement was the black stallion in the last stall. In preparation for a new jockey, one who would flat race, Lance had carefully trained Black Leo for the past few months, readying the horse for a complete focus on speed. Lance couldn’t help but puff up, expecting Keith to be impressed with how perfect Black Leo was. 

The rest of the group had followed Lance to the stall, but Keith had lingered in front of the chestnut, Red Kini. Lance cleared his throat, demanding and already impatient.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Keith glanced up, startled. He swallowed and looked around, chagrined, and sidled up to where everyone else stood, gazing up at the massive Black Leo.

“This tall, dark, and handsome stallion is Black Leo. He sired both Red Kini and Golden Leona, as well as a few others, but he’s not just a stud. Nope! In the prime of life, Black Leo is five years old and already a winner. He’s a race horse, through and through. I’ve been putting him through the paces and his speed has improved dramatically. He’s a full 17 hands high so he’s got legs from here to China…”

Lance rambled on, growing more excited with every second. Keith tried to pay attention, but he was distracted; still thinking about the mare Red Kini. She was _perfect._ He wanted to wait politely to mention to Allura that he’d be very interested in jockeying her specifically, so he watched Lance’s animated gestures. Honestly, the man’s enthusiasm was fairly endearing. Lance glanced back over to Keith and stumbled over his rehearsed speech at the look he gave. If Lance didn’t know better, he’d think Keith checked him out, and with an almost fond light in his eyes to boot. Lance coughed and Pidge glared at him suspiciously, so he hurried to finish up.

“Also, you should know that’s he’s a front-runner, perfect for flat races, I know, because I picked him out for you specifically-”

“Huh? For me?”

“Uh! Well, not for, like, _you-you,_ because I didn’t know it was you. B-But! Obviously, I knew Allura brought on a new jockey who’s supposedly got a need for speed and specializes in flat racing. Green Ace and Rebel Blue have both been primarily trained for hurdles. Yellow Canary is fine for flat racing, but Black Leo is our best. You want to ride the best, don’t you?”

Keith hesitated. Of course he wanted to ride the best. He wanted to win, for himself, for his employer, and for the long-suffering Shiro. And, if he didn’t win, then he wanted to know that he had done his best, had given everything he could, which included riding the best horse in the stable for him. Whatever warning Lance tried to issue him earlier, it had clearly been personal, and he wasn’t lying about being a professional. His entire demeanor and explanations more than demonstrated his knowledge of each horse and if he thought Black Leo was the best, Keith trusted him. And yet…

He bit his lip hesitantly, turning back to face Red Kini. His gut said to go with her. Allura brought his attention back to the conversation at hand, frowning.

“Lance is correct. Black Leo has the best qualifications and has demonstrated outstanding abilities, as well as an ideal temperament for racing. Both Lance and Hunk have worked with him his entire life and a previous jockey of ours has come in first and second place riding Black Leo in local heats. I hired you specifically to ride Black Leo.”

Keith rolled his shoulders, exhaling heavily through his nose. He desperately tried to find the words that would express his views in a polite manner. 

“I, uh, what about racing Red Kini?”

He ended up with, lamely. 

Allura’s frown deepened and Lance’s eyes bulged in his head. Shiro stepped forward, hands held up placatingly.

“What’s up, Keith? Why’re you leaning towards Red?”

Keith appreciated Shiro’s attempt, but it wasn’t like Keith had any hard data to back it up. Just a feeling.

“Just a feeling.”

“A feeling?!”

Lance’s outrage could hardly be contained. He lunged in front of Shiro, forcing Keith’s attention back to him. If Keith thought Lance’s gestures were animated before, his anger truly emanated from his whole body, arms out to the side and face screwed up in a ridiculous caricature of fury. Keith’s hackles rose and he crossed his arms, firing back defensively:

“Yeah! Why not? She’s smaller than Black, better for weaving between other riders during a race, and her build is compact without being stocky. Black’s her sire, she’s got his long legs and overall lean body. Looks wise, she’s perfect!”

Lance rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Sure, she’s a beautiful horse! I’ll take that! But, as you well know, that’s not the only thing that matters. She can be the fastest horse in Altea Stables and it doesn’t matter because she’s finicky as fuck, is two years old, and barely broken! So she isn’t great about obeying verbal commands, responds poorly to a riding crop, and has never raced before.”

Under normal circumstances, a jockey would give up. Even Shiro’s eyes pleaded with Keith to let it go, for once in his life, just accept that someone else might know better and roll with it. What did Keith have? _A feeling._ Allura hired him to ride Black, Lance had worked with Black, Red wasn’t ready at all. But who was Keith if not a man who always took a chance?

“What? Don’t think you’re up to the task of training her?”

Lance actually _growled_ at that. Keith tried not to find it hot. He narrowed his eyes, steam practically bursting from Lance’s ears. His whole face flushed with righteous indignation, aggressively poking Keith hard in the chest with his finger.

“I’m not worried about my skills, pal. You’re the one who has to be ready to hand ride her, since she doesn’t want to obey a whip. And, oh, did I forget to mention? She doesn’t like strangers.”

A few weeks later, Keith still may not have enjoyed Lance’s company, but he had to admit that Lance was correct about Red Kini. He wasn’t especially worried about not using a riding crop with her; he had experience doing so and Shiro wasn’t stingy with his intense training. Getting a horse to trust you enough to allow you on their back, on the other hand, Shiro said couldn’t be taught. Considering that Shiro’s general level of annoyance with Keith was still high from Keith and Lance’s spat, (and then needing to intervene on Keith’s behalf to convince Allura to trust him and give his idea a chance), Keith didn’t think Shiro would help him even if he knew the secret to Red Kini’s heart. Keith had tried the basic staples: apples, sugar cubes, and hand-feeding. When Hunk was on Red’s grooming duty, he let Keith help out, but Lance wasn’t so kind. Keith was half convinced that Lance _wanted_ Red to remain aloof and ignoring Keith, probably took a vindictive pleasure out of seeing Red reject him. Or, at least, that’s what Keith thought. Until he came earlier than normal, intending to take Red Kini out on a lead and walk her around the corral. Keith hadn’t bothered to keep his footsteps quiet; he figured he was alone. 

Pulling his replacement jacket a bit tighter around his torso, (his normal jacket had gone missing soon after his first visit to Altea Stables. He was sure that it was laying around somewhere, he’d searched hard for it, but the jacket proved to be elusive.). His boots crunched in the dirt as he opened the door of the barn, Allura having given him a key when she’d hired him. He made his way farther down the line of stalls, Rebel Blue gently whinnying at him in recognition. Before he could swing open the door for Red’s stall, though, he heard a muted voice. Keith held his breath, his hand stilling on the door.

“Hey sweet girl. C’mere, there you go. Gotta get these tangles out of your hair, get you looking beautiful and pretty for Keith. I know, I know. He thinks you’re a queen already, but you don’t want him to see you being a ragamuffin, now do you?”

Keith ducked his head quietly, trying to peer through the slats in the door where the wood didn’t completely obscure his vision. Inside the stall, he heard Red shuffling around the soft susurrus of a brush combing through her unruly mane. A fast peek verified that Lance was inside, murmuring sweet nothings to the horse while holding something up to her face. She buried her nose in it, whuffling. Lance pulled it away, chuckling.

“If you just got big, gross boogers in there, Keith’s never gonna want this thing back.”

Keith raised his eyebrows. Lance had somehow gotten ahold of his missing jacket and was enticing Red with a combination of gentle grooming and reinforcing Keith’s scent by having her repeatedly sniff his jacket. It was certainly a strange sight to behold and, privately, Keith agreed that equine snot didn’t make for a great jacket accessory. He had to rethink his opinion of Lance though, considering that the guy went out of his way to help Red Kini get used to Keith’s smell, which went a long way in earning her trust. That behavior didn’t line up with the asshole he’d pegged Lance as, almost made it seem like Lance did want Keith to succeed. Keith snuck out of the barn as stealthily as possible, climbing back into his car to mull over the situation.

Well, actually, Lance’s ministrations on Red made a hell of a lot more sense than his previous attitude. Of course he wanted Keith to succeed, Lance spent time and effort preparing Red for races and Keith represented the entirety of Altea Stables, especially the horse trainers. Naturally, Keith doing well would make Lance look good. Keith pursed his lips, thinking back to their first meeting, trying to puzzle out the warning and ensuing outrage. The outburst could have been down to Keith going against expectations by choosing Red, (a huge overreaction, granted), but Keith could accept that explanation. As for keeping things professional…

Keith groaned aloud and slapped his forehead. Such an _idiot._ Shiro was always lecturing Keith on the importance of human body language and intuiting meaning from expressions and body placement, not just through words and tone. Of course. The whole time he’d been thinking over Lance’s weird introduction, (not that he thought about it excessively, or even often), Keith had ignored Lance’s body language. He’d leaned against the fence, stretching his whole body out with one leg kicked up, a blatantly flirty pose. There’s no way he missed the way Keith checked him out walking over from the cars and Keith had vaguely registered how Lance’s gaze almost never left him. Keith had chalked it up to being a stranger and meeting Lance for the first time, but now that he associated it with the warning, it became glaringly obvious: Lance was attracted to Keith and wanted him to know it, but, for whatever reason, (Altea Stables general policy?), Lance thought a relationship between them wasn’t feasible. Which was totally fair. They were technically co-workers and fighting or a messy breakup would make for an extremely awkward work environment. Letting Keith know that he wanted to keep things professional was a warning to avoid any date requests. Lance wasn’t an asshole, Keith realized with a laugh, just a narcissist. Maybe for good reason. Attractive didn’t even begin to cover it. And, now that Keith wasn’t so preoccupied with Lance’s bad attitude, maybe Keith could take the time to better appreciate that attractiveness. 

A sudden noise of the barn door opening jerked Keith out of his poorly timed fantasies. Lance led Red Kini out to the corral on a lead, carrying out a saddle and tack in his other hand. Once inside, Lance began to soothe and stroke Red, carefully laying the saddle blanket on Red’s back. She snorted and stamped, but didn’t otherwise protest. Keith clambered out of his car for a second time, leaning back against the door to observe. He had seen Lance, briefly, over the past few weeks running Red through the paces, working with her to accept tack and not buck or startle as much. He’d decided early on to use partial blinders, to limit the distractions Red Kini had to deal with, but it wasn’t enough to curb her desire to rear up at loud noises. Lance managed to get the entire saddle and bridle on, only really fighting with Red to get the bit in her mouth and to tighten the straps around her belly. He kneed her sharply in the stomach, forcing her to release the air she was holding so that he could tighten the straps properly. Keith smiled; it was an old trick that feisty horses liked to try. 

Keith strode over to the fence and climbed onto it, making himself comfortable and relaxing. He waited patiently for Lance to notice him, not wanting to draw Lance’s concentration away from Red. It took Lance a surprisingly long time to see Keith, so absorbed was he in coaxing Red to lift her feet, allowing Lance to inspect each of her hooves. After her feet passed muster and her blinders were securely on, Lance mounted up. He clucked his tongue and squeezed his thighs, indicating that Red Kini should walk. Nothing happened. Lance tried to verbally command her to walk. He also tried slapping the reins, digging his heels harder into her sides, pleading with her aloud, and finally slapping her rump in annoyance. The last one made her rear and Lance desperately threw his arms around her neck, clinging to the horse. Keith vaulted over the fence, worried about injuries, but was shocked to see that Lance didn’t actually fall off. He managed, barely, to hang on. Impressed, but undeterred in his quest, Keith marched over, slowing down considerably once he got close and holding his hands placatingly up to Red’s face, making sure she could see him and wouldn’t be alarmed. 

“Oh, uh, hey man.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Totally. Got everything under control here.”

Keith raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Okay… it didn’t _look_ like you do. It looked like she almost threw you.”

“Well excuse me, Mr. Jockey, but I am a horse trainer. I know how to handle myself and my horses.”

Keith sighed heavily. Lance was so much better when he was cutely holding Keith’s jacket for Red to smell and brushing her coat. Or when he joked around with Hunk and playfully jumped on the bigger man’s back. Or flirted in an over the top way with Allura to help her remember to take a breath and enjoy life too. Basically, any time he wasn’t giving Keith lip.

“I know it’s your job. But it’s my job to ride the horse. I don’t doubt that you could ride a horse you’ve already trained, but Red Kini is gonna be entered in maiden races for a reason. What if I ride her and you train her? You’ll be in control, putting us through the paces. I’ve been mostly riding Black Leo to, uh, get back in to the swing of things, but I need a feel for Red. Whether she’ll bear in or out and how much guiding she needs from me. Black’s a dream; he doesn’t need me at all. But Red’s different. I know you’ve been working on her stamina, so why don’t you let me give her a good, hard ride and we can see what happens?”

Lance snorted, his shoulders shaking slightly. He seemed reluctant, but he dismounted swiftly and held the reins out. Keith frowned.

“What now?”

“Think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say, for one. Also, ‘give her a good, hard ride’? Seriously? That’s like, the name of your next sex tape, my dude.”

Keith flushed as red as a tomato. Muttering darkly under his breath, he snatched the reins from Lance’s hands and jumped up onto Red’s back, apologizing to her after for his rough handling. He glared at Lance while he moved to the center of the corral. Lance bowed with a sweeping gesture.

“Let’s work up the full gallop, hmm? I know you’re both rearing to go, but exhaustion isn’t the point here.”

It nearly took every ounce of self-control for Keith to not mow Lance down for that shitty pun. Despite the embarrassment both men struggled with at the beginning, however, the day turned out to be a productive one. It took about ten minutes to convince Red to actually move, instead of huffing indignantly at being ridden, but once she did, she performed quite well. They mostly worked on commands for different speeds, allowing Keith to relax into her natural gait and let his muscles start to sync up with her movements. After some time of bouncing around jarringly when she trotted, Lance signaled for them to work up through a canter and into a proper gallop. Finally given the opportunity to be free and just _ride,_ Keith bent low over her neck, encouraging Red to run as fast as she could. Shit could she run. That first time, most jockeys would have been along for the ride, no control whatsoever over the rogue mare. But Keith? He whooped aloud and spurred her on, grinning wildly. Lance watched in awe, Keith’s black mane whipping behind him as he rode the fastest horse either guy had ever seen. Faster than Black Leo, faster than Green Ace even, though not as agile. Lance ran his tongue over suddenly dry lips, his gaze drifting to Keith’s powerful thighs flexed around Red’s saddle and the way he leaned forward intently. Damn. Lance gave himself a moment to wish Keith would ride _him_ like that before shaking off the dirty thoughts with a forced cough. 

Afterwards, once Keith and Red Kini had run themselves to exhaustion, Keith accompanied Lance back inside the barn, quietly assisting as Lance untacked Red. When they moved on to giving Red a good rubdown, combing out the lather sweat on her heaving sides, Keith cleared his throat.

“So, ah, where’s Hunk?”

Lance made a considering noise.

“It’s his day off…uh…maybe hanging out with Shay? They’re practically dating; I mean, it’s a technicality at this point really-“

“I wanna talk to you about something.”

Keith interrupted him, not wanting to lose his nerve. Lance stopped talking and raised his eyebrows at Keith, expression growing more wary when he saw whatever face Keith was making.

“Oookay. Well, you got me all to yourself man. We’re talking. I’m sure Red won’t tell anyone.”

Lance closed his mouth abruptly. He always rambled when he was nervous and the determined look, coupled with the blush riding high on Keith’s cheeks, was _definitely_ making him nervous. Keith hummed to himself, hanging up the brush he’d been using and patted Red on the flank, steeling his nerves. 

“When we first met, I couldn’t help but notice. You know, the way you acted. It left an impression.”

Lance’s stomach sank. He’d been sort of hoping that they could just continue to coexist as they had been and Keith wouldn’t ever confront him about Lance’s initial behavior. Once Hunk had pointed out exactly how extra Lance had come off, he deeply regretted his demeanor, though not the message. This was Keith’s second chance at a racing career and, maybe it wasn’t his place, (maybe it was a little creepy how much he cared about a veritable stranger’s life), but Lance was damned if he’d let Keith squander it.

“Yeah…that was my intention. Wanted everyone to be on the same page.”

“Oh, I think we’re on the same page, all right. I mean, hey, I understand. Relationships can get messy fast and no one wants two people working together to have that kind of bad blood between them, right? I’m not offended. I can see how worried you look, but you don’t have to be. I might be…pretty intense in a lot of ways, but I can do casual just fine. And seriously, I wouldn’t be opposed. I mean, uh…”

Keith stepped closer, invading Lance’s personal space. His voice dropped to a sultry rumble, lighting up all the right parts of Lance’s brain. Lance swallowed, stock still. He’d never been so confused in his life. 

“I saw the way you stretched out over the fence, the second I moved around the car, like you were _begging_ me to check you out. I didn’t miss the way you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me then, and now. You think you’re subtle, playing coy like that? Doesn’t have to just be a fantasy of yours, you know. You got my attention, Lance.”

Keith said his name slowly, relishing the taste of it on his tongue. He felt pretty good about the presentation, noted that Lance’s face had flushed, and gave himself a mental pat on the back for being so suave. To seal the deal, he tilted his head and gave Lance an obvious once over, complete with a smoldering wink at the end. Lance’s eyes widened and darted around, suddenly very aware of his predicament. He was _not_ ready and freaked the fuck out.

“N-no! Uh, wait, I mean, j-just hold on, man! Let’s take a second to breathe, right? Uh-huh. Um.”

Keith blinked and cocked his head to the side. Could it be that Lance was the type of person who wasn’t used to being approached so directly? Keith rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time to sit around and wait to be propositioned. He was busy! 

“I didn’t even know you like guys! Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Or that I have a problem with it! Obviously. I like guys too. Uh, I guess you could tell. But, okay, the point is: I wasn’t hitting on you, or expecting you to hit on me, or anything. Well, sure I was checking you out, but can you blame me? I mean, come on!”

The more taken aback Lance seemed, the more Keith’s temper rose. It was a combination of humiliation from trying out his, admittedly poor, dirty talk on Lance, someone he’d been so sure had been down to hook up, and the frustration of Lance just rambling. He crossed his arms over his chest angrily.

“Just spit it out!”

“Fine! The reason I was a little bitch when we met is that I wanted you to take this opportunity seriously. Allura is doing you a big favor in sponsoring you and I didn’t want you to throw it all away by getting into a scrap with another jockey again. Maybe I didn’t go about it the right way, so I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to see you in that position again.”

Keith inhaled sharply. So much for being suave. Lance was really just another Shiro, worried that at any moment Keith would lose his mind and clock some poor, unsuspecting jockey at a race. Another day, Keith might be flattered that Lance genuinely seemed to care about Keith’s prospects, but the mortified blush still hadn’t left his face from before. Lance tentatively started speaking again.

“Uh, about, you know, the other thing, I mean, you weren’t exactly wrong about my finding you hot and I’d be happy to-“

“Stop. Just, don’t. You don’t know the situation, there were certain things- whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to hit anyone. As for hooking up, don’t bother. I changed my mind.”

He physically waved Lance away and stomped out of the stall, emotionally incapable of continuing the interaction. He jumped in his car and sped home, ignoring any and all speed limits on the way. A few days later, Lance quietly announced that he had found a maiden race for Red Kini and that it was coming up in a few weeks. He wanted to know if Keith thought he’d be ready in time. The situation was painfully awkward and Keith didn’t help anything when he snapped at Lance that he was fine, if Lance thought Red was, Keith would do whatever he needed to. He’d been prepared to spend the next few months avoiding Lance until his humiliation died down, but, it turned out, Keith didn’t have to bother. Lance only spoke to him when necessary and he never said anything extra. His sentences were clipped, eyes averted, and their interactions were kept short and subdued. By not having to focus on avoidance, however, Keith had more time to wallow in the guilt seeping in from the altercation. He wasn’t wrong in his annoyance with Lance for butting into matters he had nothing to do with, didn’t even understand, and he was _another_ person who didn’t ask for Keith’s side of the story. Fuck, no one had ever even asked why he’d done it. At the same time, Lance cared enough to not want Keith to mess things up again. Or, he knew Keith’s reputation and cared about Altea and wanted them to win. 

Ultimately, Keith stuck to his normal method of dealing with bafflingly frustrating human interactions; he pretended it never happened and focused on racing. Shiro had once joked that Keith raced like he could outrun all of his problems, but Keith had known better than to laugh. He remembered it again, standing with the other jockeys before Red Kini’s maiden race. Keith didn’t particularly care for Altea Stables’ jockey outfit, but no jockey ever looked anything but mildly ridiculous in the bright colors and loud patterns typical of horse racing. At least Keith looked good in red. The jacket was crimson with white piping and seams, with a yellow epaulette design, a maroon helmet, and matching (?) white pants. He was allowed only his own black boots, for which he thanked God. 

He glanced around the paddock, critically eyeing the competition, both the jockeys and horses alike. Some familiar faces nodded genially at him, others watched him in open suspicion. Horses five and ten, Cigar and Sunday Silence respectively, looked washed out, but the pamphlet Allura had given him before listed them both as rank outsiders, so Keith wasn’t surprised. He exhaled carefully, trying to remember the styles of riding that Hunk had mentioned for some of the horses who had raced before. Most of them were maiden racers, like Red, but some of them had raced before and just hadn’t shown, therefore still qualifying for a maiden race like this one. He tried to shake off the feeling of being watched, whispers barely too quiet for him to understand drifting between jockeys and bettors who conveniently looked away when Keith met their gazes. He’d heard the rumors too. Keith, the ‘Come Back Kid’ Kogane, managed to bribe his way back into racing and get a decent sponsor to boot. It wouldn’t give him any popularity points with the other jockeys, especially not the ones who were present for Keith’s fisticuffs. Brooding about their opinions wasn’t doing anything for his anxiety. 

He gave Red Kini an apologetic pet and took a walk, briskly dodging anyone trying to get his attention. Lance was around, somewhere, and Hunk held on to Red and gave her a walkabout, but he’d told them that he did best when he didn’t talk to anyone before a race and they respected his distance. He knew they had to observe Red’s behavior, assess her mental state, and all that. Lance was probably sneaking around and taking obsessive notes on the other horses and jockeys. But he couldn’t focus on them. Instead, he jammed his fists into his pockets and wandered around, counting his breaths methodically. One owner and jockey seemed to be arguing passionately about ‘unreasonable disqualification’ with an exasperated steward while a llama sheepishly looked on. It shuffled between feet, obviously aware of how out of place it was. Keith gave the llama a sympathetic glance and the llama shrugged at him, as if to say: What can you do? Keith shrugged back, suddenly distracted by another steward running around to get everyone’s attention.

“Back to the paddocks, please! We’ll be bringing the horses around for the post parade in fifteen minutes!”

Keith sighed and turned around, retracing his steps. He made his way over to Red, noting some of the other jockeys leading their horses from the paddock already. Most of them seemed to be in peak physical condition, their coats gleaming in the sunlight, but Keith’s well-trained eye could spot a few he wouldn’t bet on. Number eight, Robin Dancer a quick glance at his pamphlet said, clearly had a rough day so far. Her head was high and she strained continuously at her harness to lift it higher, the whites of her eyes obvious as they darted to and fro. Another one, Blue Eyed Danny, number three, ambled around the paddock aimiably with a slight paddling walk. The stallion’s legs swung wide when he walked, which Keith knew indicated a soreness of either the knees or the feet. Though likely not a permanent impediment, and in all other respects the horse was a fine one, he suspected that Blue Eyed Danny wouldn’t hit the board this time. 

One horse impressed him in particular. It was huge, horse number six, nearly the largest thoroughbred Keith had ever seen. It’s gaskin muscle stood out like a bodybuilder and it’s flanks were deeply cut with thick, ropy muscles. It had a long stride and its neck arched proudly, ears pricked forward in alertness, calmly waiting. Keith checked his notes. Pride of the Galra was the horse’s name, but, more surprising, was that Keith didn’t recognize the jockey. Everyone knew about the Galra and their prized horses, as well as their _less than savory_ methods of acquiring them, but Pride sure was a beast. And the jockey, well, he was a bit bigger than your average rider too. Keith gawked at his long, platinum hair, tendrils escaping from underneath his black helmet. He seemed as composed as his mount and, for that, Keith was jealous. Keith wasn’t a betting man, but, if he were, he’d put all his money on Pride of the Galra. He mentioned his suspicions to Lance while he mounted up. Lance nodded grimly.

“Yeah, Pride’s a heavy favorite. So are Far and Away and Cutlass Reality, but Pride especially. Hasn’t ever technically raced before, but he’s a three and a half year old, got some famous sire or something. Rumor is, old Sendak picked him out himself and paid almost a hundred grand for the colt from some stud farm.”

Keith whistled. He wished _he_ had hundreds of thousands of dollars to drop on horses, but then, he was just a jockey. 

“I bet Allura’s had to pay a lot for some of hers.”

Lance grunted and shrugged non-committally. Given that a few of her horses were related, Keith supposed she might have gotten a discount, but he wasn’t sure. He’d never had the capital to actually buy a horse capable of racing professionally, so he didn’t really know what was or wasn’t a reasonable price. Hunk came over to take the reins and lead Keith and Red Kini out to the track. Lance mounted up on a different horse to walk next to Red and lead her while she warmed up, giving her a final evaluation before the race. Keith surveyed the track as they made their way past the grandstands. It was a one and three quarter mile track, allowing the horses to focus on speed rather than stamina. It would also check their agility and ability to maneuver around the other horses, overcoming their starting positions to vie for head of the pack. The other riders paraded their horses slowly around the track, showing off for the fans and discussing last minute things with their trainers. Lance didn’t speak, but rode alongside, occasionally stroking Red’s mane when she tossed her head impatiently. 

“She looks as good as she’s gonna. She’s on her toes and in the muscle, bouncy. Eager. She’s not the best horse on the track, but I think she’s going to run a good race today, barring anything weird. We’ve got her blinders on and she’s a lot less skittish today. As long as the start bell doesn’t scare her, she should do well. I’d say maybe fifth or sixth, maybe she’ll show.”

Keith appreciated how professional Lance was with him after their fiasco a few weeks back, but he couldn’t resist a challenge, no matter how it was worded.

“I’ll make _sure_ she does. Won’t you, Red?”

Red Kini whinnied and she stamped, turning in a half circle. Lance gave them a final nod and they galloped back to the stalls, Keith rising up off the saddle and narrowing his eyes at the dust in the air from the dirt track. He had goggles and he’d definitely need them in the race. He snapped them on while all of the horses shuffled into their stalls and the doors closed, boxing them in. Lance exhaled and patted Red on the flank, and, after a half second of hesitation, patted Keith on the leg as well, before exiting. It was just Keith and Red Kini, breathing in the race ahead. The announcer boomed over the speakers, announcing each horse’s name and starting position. The other favorites were in second, Cutlass Reality, and twelfth, Far and Away. On Keith’s left was Blue Eyed Danny and on his right was Pride of the Galra. It took all his willpower not to look right and let his intimidation get the best of him. It would be difficult to dodge around that monster of a horse, but if Red darted left, she could hug the inside of the track and possibly gain some ground that way. Keith’s fingers flexed, unaccustomed to not having a whip. They could do this. 

The bell rang, absurdly echoing in his ears, and the doors flew open. Red tugged on her reins, hooves already in the air, and they were off. Keith spent a moment reveling in the adrenaline shooting through his veins and the familiar sensation of pushing up to rise above the saddle, ass hovering in the air as he leaned forward, jostled by Red’s movement. The wind burst past his face, whipping through the stands of hair not held down by the helmet, his jacket flapping noisily around his torso. All he could hear was the thundering of galloping hooves, but even as the green and white striped pole marking one eighth mile came up fast on his left, some of the horses had already started to pull ahead. As he’d suspected, Cutlass Reality and Pride of the Galra were in the lead, within a length of each other. Far and Away, Topsy Turvy, and Jones Queen were gaining on them quickly, but so was Red Kini. 

Keith nudged Red towards the inside, skirting around the edges of the other horses and by the time they were passing the candy cane one quarter mile pole, they’d managed to come even with Cunning Brandy, one length behind Pride of the Galra, and Cutlass Reality still a few lengths ahead. Keith leaned closer to Red’s neck. Red and Cunning Brandy edge closer over halfway through the race, their hooves churning frantically in the dust. Surprisingly, it looked like Pride had faltered slightly, Cutlass Reality overtaking Pride by a nose. Keith couldn’t believe a horse that muscled wouldn’t have the stamina to maintain the pace it had set. He smacked Red Kini’s shoulder, trying to take advantage of the slowing leader to squeeze in and hit the board. 

Suddenly, the air was split by an ear-piercing shriek as Cutlass Reality stumbled and threw the jockey atop. Rider and horse both hit the ground, a human scream quickly following the horse’s. Keith couldn’t afford to be distracted, though he felt a stab of pity for both of the downed racers. He didn’t see how bad the fall was, but undoubtedly the rider was badly injured and the horse would likely be retired after such a stumble. Keith’s eyes narrowed as Pride picked up the pace again, the slowdown seemingly faked. Later, Keith would think long and hard about the type of rider who would forcibly slow his mount to entice another racer to move in and seize the opportunity to come in first, only for it to be a trap. As it was, Red Kini surged forward, the end of the track near and put on a burst of speed, managing to barely come in front of Far and Away and finishing second. He let Red slow down gradually after she’d passed the finish line, both of their sides heaving. Red’s coat glistened with sweat and Keith’s head pounded. What the _fuck_ had happened? 

The rest of the horses finished not too long after and the jockey was still where they had been thrown. The horse had managed to stand but was limping badly. Some paramedics ran over to the jockey with a stretcher and carefully loaded them on. Keith’s heart was in his throat. Everyone knew jockeying was one of the most dangerous sports, but Keith had been racing since he was 16 and, though,  he’d seen some pretty horrific injuries, he’d never seen anyone die. He hoped they weren’t dead. He _really_ hoped they weren’t dead. So absorbed in his morbid musings was he that Keith hardly noticed Pride of the Galra’s approach until Lotor was within speaking distance without raising his voice.

“Well, that _is_ a terrible tragedy. Poor horse will probably have to be put down.”

Keith grunted in agreement, eyeing Lotor to gauge his sincerity.

“I hope the jockey is okay. That was a bad fall.”

Lotor hummed, tilting his head to the side coyly.

“Indeed. Seems rather a waste, wouldn’t you say?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just think it’s a pity that, if someone was to be thrown during the race, that it wasn’t the violent thug Altea Stables has saddled itself with, Lord knows why. The fates were truly in no one’s favor today.”

Keith gaped at him as Lotor smugly trotted away. Had the man _seriously_ suggested that it wasn’t an accident, but track sabotage? Keith reeled with the possibilities. The track would investigate any allegations and surely the jockey, or their family, would make some. They’d find out if it was sabotage. But in the mean time, what was Keith supposed to take away from that nasty comment? That the Galra were gunning for him? And, if they were, had the sabotage been for Red Kini? Cutlass Reality performed better than expected and just so happened to catch the hole meant for him? Or, maybe Keith was still emotional from the adrenaline and sympathy for the fallen jockey and wasn’t thinking straight. He decided to wait and tell the others about Lotor’s (possible) insinuations. He needed to think about it more and, guilt or no, he wanted to celebrate Red’s victory in the race. 

“Holy shit, Keith! That was amazing! You placed!”

“Yeah. Yeah, Red’s great. She did so well.”

Keith smiled and gave Red an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Regardless of what ended up happening with Lotor or the Galra, none of it was Red’s fault and she deserved to be praised after her performance. Lance led them over to the area where the top three racers were shown off to the audience and given ribbons to commemorate their victory. Later on, Keith would get a small share of the second place purse he’d won, but he’d never cared about the money. He stood next to Red in a daze and maintained it for the next few hours as she was carefully groomed and fed, before Allura’s transportation took her back to the stables. 

Keith hung around while some of Allura’s other jockeys raced and, before he knew it, Hunk had guided Keith into a bar where everyone wanted to celebrate. He dumbly blinked back to reality and hesitantly asked Hunk to grab him whatever was on tap. Keith wasn’t usually the type to drink when he was around other people and potentially needed to interact with them in a socially acceptable way, but after the race and Lotor’s comments, he figured he could _really_ use the alcohol. Then he realized that he’d been shoved unceremoniously into a booth, smushed up against Lance who appeared to already be into his cups a bit. He gave Keith the widest grin he’d seen since their weird didn’t-hook-up faux pas. Keith couldn’t help it; the smile was infectious.

“I wanna tell ya somfin.”

Keith raised his eyebrows a bit, leaning in when Lance beckoned him closer. Hunk slid Keith’s drink across the table to him and went over to talk with someone else. Without Hunk’s large presence, Keith had the option to scoot away from Lance, recover some of his personal space, but the atmosphere made him rethink it. He decided to stay where he was, swigging down some of his beer. 

“Listen, listen!”

Keith rolled his eyes indulgently, happy they were back to their easy interactions from before, despite Lance’s clear intoxication.

“I’m listening, Lance.”

“‘Kay. Just wanna say ‘m sorry.”

Keith blinked, swallowing another sip.

“Sorry?”

“Yeah. You ’n Red did really well today and we’re here to celebrate so I dun wanna get _too_ heavy, but, like, I should explain. Why I was a dick t’you at first.”

Keith sighed heavily. He wasn’t sure that an explanation would help anything. Lance obviously had some deeper issues with Keith, or who he thought Keith was, and their mutual attraction wasn’t enough to start something between them, so they were currently stuck in an awkward limbo. Both men were professionals and could work around it, but that was it. Keith had berated himself numerous times for approaching Lance about that; the more he learned about him, or heard from the other staff at the stables, the more it seemed like a bad idea. 

“I know it’s dumb, but, ya know, before, I kinda followed your career pretty close. Pidge called it ‘living vicariously’ through you. Growing up, I wanted to be a jockey, but ‘m too tall and it wasn’t gonna happen. I love training horses, though. But I read and watched you win and do so well and was upset when you were banned. Kinda mad at you, I guess? ‘ts stupid, I know, I know. Cause I don’t even know what happened or why. Just, you were there, this rising star, and then you weren’t. So, when you came to Altea, I didn’t want you to get banned again or miss out. And _then,_ to top it off, my hero comes back, waltzes in, and rejects the best horse in our stable, that I trained for _months_ and cared for. You just…didn’t care.”

Keith’s throat went dry and he took a big gulp of his beer. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Black Leo is a great horse; you did an amazing job with him, I’m sure. I just had a feeling about Red Kini, one of those spur of the moment ideas. And you had my back anyway, got her ready for racing, and she did great today. So, uh, don’t worry about all that stuff. We’re cool.”

“Yeah. ‘Kay. We really do make a pretty good team, huh?”

Keith grinned widely at Lance and nodded. The rest of the night passed in an easy haze of alcohol and getting congratulatory slaps on the back and handshakes from other jockeys, groomers, and trainers from Altea Stables. Lance remained a constant for most of the night, ribbing Keith and joking around with him, chattering on about nothing, but keeping Keith entertained. At one point, he utterly lost his balance and Keith had to catch him to prevent Lance from face-planting onto the sticky floor of the bar. He’d meant to think more on Lotor’s insinuations and how seriously he should take them, but by the time Keith returned to his apartment with a goofy smile on his face, he was tired and just slept, deep and dreamless.

When he managed to drag his ass to the stables the next day, Lance was pale faced and grumbling. Pidge mercilessly teased him about being hungover and Keith went over to see if he could bring him some Advil or something, but Lance snapped at him to leave him be. Keith flinched back at the vitriol in his tone and threw up his hands in exasperation.

“What about last night?”

“What about it?”

“We had a bonding moment! I cradled you in my arms!”

“Nope. Don’t remember. Didn’t happen.”

Keith glared and crossed his arms with a huff. Fine. If that was how Lance wanted to play this, then fine. Keith could roll with that. It didn’t matter. He had to discuss the Galra/Lotor situation with Allura anyway. Considering Lance’s unofficially appointed position as Red Kini’s main trainer, he ought to be in on it as well. But, Keith wanted Hunk and Pidge to know as well, Shiro too, if possible. It seemed fairly clear that the Galra were targeting him, personally, but it might extend to the entirety of Altea Stables and he didn’t want anyone racing without fair warning. He stalked over to Allura’s office and quickly explained the situation, as well as his fears for other riders and their horses. Allura’s face darkened and she didn’t hesitate to call a stable wide meeting within the hour. Keith called Shiro, who was finishing up with another client, and he hurried over.

“Attention! I would like to make everyone aware of some information and the fact that Keith, and Altea Stables as a whole, was threatened by Lotor, representing Galra.”

“What!?”

Hunk yipped, startling the people around him into whispers and murmuring. Allura held up a hand for quiet.

“To be clear: Keith received the threat and the wording made it sound as though it was only aimed at him. However, as a jockey of Altea Stables, we take this _very_ seriously and wanted everyone to be aware. If any horse is entered into a race with Galra sponsored horses, they are to be pulled from the race until we can resolve this. No one wants to take the chance that they engineer track sabotage and we will not risk the lives and safety of our employees or our horses.”

“Wait, hold on-!”

That wasn’t what he’d expected at all! The sheer amount of money Altea Stables would lose not competing in races with such a prominent rival stables was enough that such an embargo was financially ludicrous. And besides, how would they ever get enough evidence to report Lotor or Galra without being present at the races? Allura gave Keith a withering look. 

“If you have any objections, I would _appreciate_ it if you would speak to me in private. Thank you everyone for coming at such short notice for this meeting. Please, do try not to be alarmed. But, forewarned is forearmed. Let me know if anyone has any difficulties pulling out of scheduled races. Thank you.”

Allura spun around and promptly exited the barn, Shiro, Pidge, Matt, Lance, Hunk, and Keith all hot on her heels. The rest of the staff and jockeys started in immediately, discussing what could have happened to escalate the ongoing rivalry between Altea Stables and Galra, or what they might have been planning to do to sabotage future races. On his way out, Keith overheard a few pointed comments about him and his future employment at Altea, but he aggressively tuned them out. When he and the others had all reached the inside of Allura’s office, he didn’t wait for the door to shut before he started ranting.

“We can’t avoid all Galra races! You ought to know that better than anyone! We _have_ to be there so that we can get proof of sabotage. Otherwise, we’ll never be able to report them, or report Lotor if it’s just him and some goons.”

Allura sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly. Hunk piped up from behind Keith.

“Well, that’s a good idea, but…did you see what happened with Cutlass Reality and the jockey yesterday? I’m friends with a groomer who works with the stable they represent, Balmera, and I called her this morning to see what ended up happening. The jockey is still in Intensive Care and fractured one of his ribs so badly that it punctured a lung. Not to mention, Cutlass Reality? Was running a maiden race. And was injured so badly that Balmera thinks they’ll have to put the horse down. You can’t blame Allura for wanting to take precautions! No one wants to see one of our horses injured beyond repair, or a jockey. Even if you don’t care about yourself, what about Red Kini? Do you want to see her put down?”

Keith’s fists clenched at his sides and he bit out:

“No! Of course not!”

“There’s the long term to consider though, Hunk.”

Pidge interrupted Keith’s burgeoning ire and stepped forward so that everyone could see the tiny woman better. Matt put a comforting hand on Hunk’s shoulder.

“If Keith were the type of guy who didn’t let emotions rule thought, he might have been able to articulate this, but I can do it too.”

Keith glared at her, but remained silent.

“The plain facts are this: we cannot avoid all races the Galra run in forever. We just can’t. They’re a huge competitor in the racing world. Staying away from them would mean withdrawing from almost every major race we normally run, as well as many other opportunities for more junior horses and jockeys. Not to mention the fact that if Galra figure out that we’re avoiding them, which will become obvious fast, they’ll start entering all kinds of other races they normally ignore. Even ones that they have no intention of winning, just to deter us and force us out. Word of this will spread and patrons won’t be as generous with their money, we’ll earn a lot less with purses, and Altea Stables can’t survive that.”

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What are you suggesting then? What’s a better option?”

“We have to report them. At least Lotor. The horse from Balmera, and the jockey too, the track will be investigating an accident that bad. They’ll find the hole in the track.”

“It’ll just be your word against his, though. Even if anyone overheard the conversation, which I doubt, no way they’d say anything against Galra. Under normal circumstances, someone’s word is enough, but considering your, uh, reputation…”

Keith grit his teeth in frustration. He knew Hunk was right, but it didn’t make things any easier to hear. Lance spoke up for the first time.

“We’d need more evidence. Something that couldn’t be disputed, no matter who comes forward with it.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Video footage. Using, I dunno, a GoPro, maybe. Audio and video recording device, but one not so conspicuous that a jockey or horse could have on them. It’s risky, not just for injuries incurred, but it relies on the assumption that Lotor, or another Galra goon, will target Keith again, but I don’t think that’s much of a reach.”

Shiro was already shaking his head.

“No way. There’s too many unknowns. What if they target someone else from Altea Stables? Or if Keith can’t avoid the next round of sabotage? He could get really hurt, even killed if they go far enough.”

“We can take precautions. Every trainer here is withdrawing our horses from races the Galra are in right now. If we go through with that, maybe for a few months, that’ll eliminate the possibility of someone else being targeted. If Keith is our only jockey in Galra run races, they’ll have no choice. As for the rest, well, it’s Keith and Allura’s choice. But, I have confidence in Hunk and my abilities to rig up something like Lance described. From a purely risk-reward analysis, it’s our best bet. We have to be proactive here.”

Shiro objected strongly, but, after some convincing, Allura hesitantly approved the plan. Surprisingly, the most supportive person for the whole scheme was Lance. Keith tried to corner him after, to ask why, but Lance just shrugged and muttered something about ‘understanding the need for revenge’. Whatever the hell that meant. Keith was just glad that they had a plan in place and, as soon as Pidge and Hunk finished making the contraption, Lance would start entering Keith into races with Galra representatives again. 

In the meanwhile, the trainers of Altea struggled to find local races for their horses. Finances suffered and some of the jockeys grumbled when they passed Keith, blaming him for the situation. Keith continued to hold his head high and ignored their comments, focusing on his extra lessons with Shiro where they went over every type of horse racing sabotage in the book in excruciating detail. He knew Shiro was worried and that was why he tolerated the explanations. Lance worked extra hard with Red Kini, on her agility and ability to dodge in particular. Keith ran a couple of interim races where Red and he did fairly well. They hit the board in most of them and Keith kept a sharp eye out for reports of other jockeys or horses getting injured under suspicious circumstances. Injuries were always common in racing and it was difficult to parse most reports, but, so far, there wasn’t anything that stood out. The track had ruled the Balmera fall as a deliberate sabotage, but hadn’t made any progress in their investigation of the perpetrator. It made Keith all the more determined to help.

Between Pidge’s own racing and Hunk’s horse training, it ended up taking them nearly three months to finish modifying a tiny camera and microphone. Keith and Red Kini spent a couple of weeks practicing wearing the rig, although everything was so small and light that it was hardly noticeable. The first couple of times were awkward and the footage mostly featured the inside of Keith’s jacket from his camera and it took some adjusting to Red’s camera so that the ground could be clearly seen. Hopefully, between Keith’s upper torso and Red’s belly, they could capture footage of either a track sabotage or a jockey one. Once they’d had a few successful run-throughs at non-threatening races, Lance grimly informed Keith that he’d scheduled him to race against a few Galra horses in a couple of weeks. One benefit to their determination was that Lance and Keith’s relationship hadn’t had any time to be awkward or annoying; they both focused on taking down the Galra and a common goal united them beyond petty infighting. 

Even Red Kini seemed to sense the growing anticipation as she paced around her designated area in the paddock on the day of the race. Rumors flew from fevered lips at Keith, Shiro, and Lance’s appearance earlier in the day. Altea Stables hadn’t been seen at any major races in a few months and then, when they re-enter, the new horse and jockey show? Lance’s smile was visibly forced at the registration booth and Keith kept nervously running his hands over Red. He and Lance put on her tack with caution, subtly flicking on the camera and verifying with Pidge back at the Stables that everything was working properly. She confirmed that she had a live feed and would stay in contact with Lance through periodic text messages and calls. Hunk had wanted to come as well, but Lance assured him that he’d be able to handle it, especially with Shiro along, and that Matt, racing somewhere else that day, needed him more. 

It was hard to ignore Lance’s hiss though, or his own clenched fists at the sight of Lotor riding Pride of the Galra once again. But this was what they’d trained for. Shiro hugged him briefly and Lance had wished him good luck with an uncharacteristically solemn hand clasp and nod. Keith swallowed and his throat felt dry. They were going to do this. Together. He had to trust himself, the training, Pidge and Hunk’s inventions, and, most of all, Red Kini. When Keith mounted up for the post parade, his heart began to pound and more adrenaline than normal flooded his system. He focused on taking deep, calming breaths. The last thing he wanted was to spook Red Kini or ratchet up her anxiety before the fucking race even started. Plus, there was no guarantee anything would even happen. They might run a clean race to lull Altea into a false sense of security, or because they didn’t want to be associated with multiple sabotage investigations in one year. Keith’s gut disagreed; he had a _feeling._ The same kind of inexplicable feeling about Red Kini struck him again as he led Red into the stall prior to the start and noticed that Lotor was, once more, riding directly on his side. He knew that starting position was random, he knew that. It didn’t feel random.

“Well, well, look who it is. I haven’t seen Allura’s horses around much lately. We all thought maybe you had taken an extended holiday. Hope you still remember how to ride. If you don’t, I’m sure we’d be _happy_ to take her off of your hands.”

Keith glared hotly at Lotor, but the other man’s gaze remained coolly disinterested, directed at the track in front of them. Keith ground his teeth together to keep all of his distinctly impolite responses on his tongue unsaid. He wouldn’t allow himself to be antagonized, it would only distract him and this was one race he absolutely couldn’t afford to ride distracted. In the wake of Keith’s silence, Lotor took the opportunity to smugly rankle him further.

“Huh. Thought it was just last time, but you really do run without a whip for that thing?”

Keith didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. The bell rang and the horses jumped forward, lengthening their strides immediately to a gallop. The track was two miles, so it still focused on speed and agility over stamina, but it was slightly longer than the other tracks Red Kini had run so far. Much to her dismay, Keith rode her into the middle of the pack, not wanting her to become exhausted so early in. She angrily tossed her head and tried to nip at Bedazzle when she passed, but Keith kept a firm grip on the reins and refused to give Red any quarter. Even with the impending danger, Keith couldn’t help but relish the simple joy of riding fast and inwardly felt a spike of fierce pride at Red’s desire to be the fastest and to _win._

The other horses in the race were far more experienced than she and, even discounting the Galra threat, Keith doubted, in his heart of hearts, that they would even hit the board in the race. With the added bonus of Lotor competing though? Red Kini didn’t have a chance. Didn’t stop him from grinning against the wind and urging her on. At the eighth-mile marker, Donerail and Weatherwitch had taken the lead, continually changing the leader by less than a length depending on the moment, but Pride of the Galra wasn’t far behind. Keith remembered how Lotor had paced Pride of the Galra during the other, shorter, race and if Pride’s stamina was a weak point, he wasn’t surprised to see Lotor hanging back slightly. He allowed Red Kini to speed up a little, weaving around Bedazzle and yanking hard to the left when the other mare chomped restlessly at them as they passed. He watched another stallion break free from the pack and charge forward; Cavalcade, Keith thought. The dappled horse rode up close behind Pride of the Galra, almost nose to tail with the enormous mount. The jockey riding Cavalcade tried to swerve, but Pride still managed to hip-check them with his withers, knocking them out of stride and back a few paces. Keith sucked in a breath.

He made use of the distraction that Cavalcade caused and the slight lean Pride of the Galra used to knock the other competitor away to come up on Lotor’s left. If he could _just_ maneuver his way passed them now, nearly at the one mile marker, he’d be able to see the track better and prepare for any possible last-minute sabotage. Little did he know, Lotor never took chances and Galra employees learned to cheat early and often. Red Kini barely managed to clear Pride and, sweating anxiously, began to pass the stallion smoothly, hugging the inside of the track. He’ll never know what exactly caught his attention, but something made Keith turn around and look at Lotor as they went by. Lance would later claim that it was a sense of rivalry and Keith had wanted to see the expression of haughty displeasure when he took the lead, but Keith wasn’t so sure. In any case, he turned in time to see Lotor raise his whip high and bring it down on Red Kini’s flank. 

Red _screamed._ She reared up and bucked forward at the impact, the change in momentum enough to completely unseat Keith and send him flying over her head. The fall might not have been so bad, but because they had been at the edge of the track, Keith flew straight through the wooden fence, narrowly avoiding being impaled on one of the stakes. He felt the wind knocked out of him and gasped repeatedly, trying desperately to force air into his heaving lungs. Red jumped nimbly over the fence to prance around Keith’s fallen form, stewards and staff having rushed to call the medical team standing by. Once the rest of the horses had thundered past, they ran over to Keith and restrained Red Kini to keep her from hurting herself or anyone else. Keith finally managed to breathe, but every breath burned and his chest was heavy and constricted. He tried to roll over slightly and winced at the lancing pain from his left wrist. He twisted his neck to look at it and groaned softly at the bizarre angle it had twisted into. Definitely broken. Broken or bruised ribs or sternum, at the very least. Who knows what else. He certainly wouldn’t be racing for a little while. 

“Oh God, Keith! Can you hear me?”

Someone had lifted Keith onto a stretcher at some point. He didn’t remember when and that kind of bothered him. Dazedly he tried to answer Lance and saw some paramedic trying to move Lance back. Probably because he was blocking their gurney from moving. His hands fluttered uselessly over Keith’s broken body and his expression was one of pure worry. Keith smiled despite the situation.

“We got him! I mean, you got him! Pidge has the evidence, we can show what Lotor did!”

Keith wheezed in appreciation.

“…Red?”

“Red Kini’s fine. You’re the only one who isn’t fine and you _will_ be fine, as soon as this man gets out of the way.”

Lance blushed, chagrined, and Shiro, who had just appeared from out of Keith’s limited range of vision, obligingly moved him. They both accompanied Keith to the hospital and helped him give his medical history while Keith hazily tried to keep up. It turned out to be a pretty obvious conclusion that Keith was sporting a bad concussion when the haze of confusion and doctor’s penlight in his eyes abruptly triggered a round of throwing up. Shiro gagged and had to leave, which prompted Keith to start laughing at Shiro’s empathetic gag reflex, which turned into frankly painful coughing. Someone held up a bedpan for him to rinse his mouth and spit into and somewhere along the line, medications were administered. Keith didn’t remember much after that.

He ended up being discharged after about a day with strict instructions to allow four weeks of recovery before engaging in any strenuous activities. His concussion wasn’t as bad as they had initially feared, but his wrist was broken in a few places so he had to endure a gaudy red cast, (immediately signed with a flourish by Lance). He came in to the stables as soon as he could though, to see with his own eyes that Red Kini was safe and unhurt. According to Allura, she had a slight burn on her flank from Lotor’s apparently electrified riding crop, which made Keith seethe with anger. Her lips pursed tightly, Pidge explained how Keith’s camera had caught the whole act and would be more than enough to bring a lawsuit against Galra and Lotor personally. Allura smiled darkly.

“I know a man, an old friend of my father’s actually, who is an excellent lawyer. I’ll make sure they get everything they deserve and more.”

Hunk shivered at her tone. Keith might have been more alarmed, but he was too busy being relieved that Red was okay and that the Galra threat had taken a serious blow. Not to mention the fact that, even after Shiro had finally gone home after the accident to explain what had happened, Lance had stayed with him, both at the hospital and afterwards. He’d cared for Keith with tender hands and gentle words. It had made Keith’s breath hitch in a way he couldn’t entirely blame on the bruised rib cage. Now, Lance still stared at him with the same soft look and approached Keith privately once they’d left Allura’s office. 

“Hey man.”

“Yeah?”

Lance licked his lips and Keith inadvertently tracked the movement. 

“Remember before? When you said that I was trying to get your attention that first day because I wanted you to check me out?”

Keith flushed slightly.

“Uh, yeah, I remember…”

“You were right. Um, not about the part where you assumed I’m not looking for a relationship, but um-“

Keith leaned forward and swiftly cut Lance off with a kiss. It took Lance a few seconds to make the transition, but soon he wrapped his arms excruciatingly lightly around Keith’s waist, making sure not to jostle him at all. The kiss was chaste, due to injuries, and the moment Keith tried to deepen it into something more, Lance pulled his head back with a soft noise. Keith stubbornly tried to chase his lips, but Lance nuzzled their noses together instead.

“Slow down, cowboy. There’s plenty of time for that later, once you’re healed.”

Someone who sounded suspiciously like Pidge and Matt began to wolf-whistle and cat-call them across the way and Keith buried his blushing face in Lance’s shoulder. He made sure that Lance could feel the way Keith’s grin stretched over his face, even through Lance’s jacket. 

“Hey! Leave him alone! He had a concussion!”

“Then what’s your excuse?”

“I may be an incurable romantic, but I’m also a rampant exhibitionist with a cowboy kink. Duh.”

Keith snorted into Lance’s neck which made him playfully pretend to shove Keith away, yelling about how gross he was and what a terrible mistake he’d made. Keith had to endure endless teasing from the others, but, with Lance’s warm hand in his own, he found it didn’t matter. He couldn’t stop smiling like a fool. 

As it turned out, Lance wasn’t as strict as Keith’s doctor had been. Even though the recommendation had been four weeks, Lance thought that, at three, Keith was well enough for some strenuous activities. To his sheer delight, (but utter lack of surprise), even with a broken wrist, Keith proved himself to be an _excellent_ rider who could adapt to any mount. Lance made sure to tell everyone who was willing to listen about Keith’s amazing skills until Hunk finally tied Lance to a hitching post and refused to let him back in. Lance hollered at Red Kini that she better watch herself because Keith had a new favorite stallion to ride and Keith why the fuck aren’t you rescuing me? Matt marched out grimly, having taken the wheelbarrow of manure they’d been in the process of mucking out. He held the handles lackadaisically and raised his eyebrows at Lance. Diplomatically, Lance kept his silence and his cleanliness. 

Keith still refused to untie him, though. 


End file.
